


Best Left Forgotten

by Renai_chan



Category: Captain America
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Humor-ish Flangst, M/M, past bullying
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-19
Updated: 2012-12-19
Packaged: 2017-11-21 13:38:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,183
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/598360
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Renai_chan/pseuds/Renai_chan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Howard pesters Steve into attending his high school reunion.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Best Left Forgotten

**Author's Note:**

> Okay so this is exactly how I'd like Howard to act if he were my date to my high school reunion. Just sayin.
> 
> First Steve/Howard fic, inspired by blakefancier (I hope I did her justice). It started out humorous, then I tried to make it fluffy, but somewhere along the way it became angsty and then--BOOM!--plot?. 
> 
> Plus I wrote this within a day and I don't gots me no beta yet, so forgive everything :S I'm still accepting recommendations for betas if you have any/would like to volunteer.

Steve stared at the letter in his hands in surprise, and no small amount of dread creeping up to his throat from his stomach. The letterhead screamed at him its source and the body declared its intent, both of which made him cringe so horribly that he wondered if he should just cut his losses now and chuck it before anything untoward could happen—

—of course, that was precisely when the letter was deftly plucked out of his hands by another.

“What’s this, dear?” he was asked, the letter held up high and out of his reach as if he couldn’t snatch it back by simply standing up. He made a half-hearted attempt to do just that, but he was easily thwarted when Howard simply stepped out of his reach, still reading the letter contents. Steve took a second to admire his lover, naked and dripping from a quick shower, but it was a second too long because Howard said, “High school reunion? _Really_.” He sounded amused and intrigued, so Steve scowled at him and managed to snatch the letter back.

“Not going,” he said shortly, stuffing the paper back into its envelope.

“Whyever not?” Howard asked with a wide grin. “It sounds like a marvelous idea, Steve. We should both go!” Steve scowled at him some more.

“No.”

“But, Steve!”

“I’m not _going_ , Howard. You can go by yourself for all I care,” Steve said making to stalk out of their bedroom in a huff, but Howard put himself in the way, effectively stopping him from doing so.

“Oh, come on. It’ll be _interesting_ ,” Howard pleaded. “I’ll get to know all about little you!” Steve rolled his eyes.

“’Little’ in more ways than one,” Steve muttered under his breath. Then, louder, he said, “Look, high school wasn’t the best time for me. I was small, I was thin, I was sickly, so I got picked on a lot and I didn’t make a lot of friends,” he paused. “I didn’t make any at all… except for, well… Bucky.” Howard bit his lip and stepped closer to him, winding his arms around Steve’s waist and tugging him down. Steve buried his face in the crook of Howard’s neck as the genius crooned at him and patted his hair.

“I’m here now, babe,” he murmured softly.

“Yeah, I know,” Steve answered, his lips brushing against Howard’s neck and making the other man shiver, so he pressed his lips against the skin more firmly before sucking at it softly. Howard couldn’t help but moan and tilt his head to give Steve better access.

“So can we go?” he asked after a moment. Steve huffed a laugh at his lover’s persistence and lifted him up by the globes of his ass. Howard giggled as he wrapped his legs around Steve’s waist, pressing a deep kiss to his lips.

“Why do you want to?” Steve asked as he carried Howard to the bed and pressed him down. There was a moment of silence as both of them worked on getting Steve out of his clothes.

“Because I want to see what it’s like to have classmates,” the smaller man answered before pressing kisses upon kisses to the length of Steve’s throat. His hands roamed over the muscles of his shoulders, arms and chest, light and fleeting, before settling on his pectorals, flicking lightly at his nipples.

_Homeschooled. Right_ , Steve remembered. Out loud, he said, “It’s like being stuck in a room full of people who exist to make your life miserable.” Howard laughed.

“Kind of like the Taliban then?”

“I think I’d prefer being stuck in a roomful of Taliban members,” Steve answered wryly. “At least that way, I get applauded for punching them.” Howard’s laugh was infectious, and Steve found himself mimicking it. And then their laughter devolved into kisses and moans and Steve found himself succumbing to the other man’s touch.

Howard’s words alone were enough to have any ordinary man making promises he’d kill to keep; it was no wonder then that Steve found himself promising to bring Howard to that stupid high school reunion after a night spent touching him and being touched.

……………

He could see the appreciative gleam in Howard’s eye, but he ignored it—it and the way Howard looked particularly delectable in his white dinner jacket—because everything was all Howard’s fault, so he did not get to reap the benefits of Steve in a tux. Instead of lazing about, sprawled out naked on their bed, and spending glorious, glorious hours of mind-blowing sex, here he was, trying to get the stupid bowtie of his monkey suit on right while it _refused_ to cooperate. With a growl, he tugged it off completely and threw it on the ground, barely resisting the urge to stomp on it. To that, Howard laughed and picked the tie up off the floor. Steve refused to strangle him.

“Let me,” the smaller man said and tapped on Steve’s chin in a signal for him to lift it. With a sigh, Steve complied and allowed his lover to put the tie on.

“Is it too late for me to convince you to change your mind?” he asked. Howard pressed his lips to Steve’s Adam’s apple just as he finished his task.

“Yes,” he said simply so that Steve scowled at him and he laughed again. “We’re late enough as it is. Although, surprisingly,” he gestured to himself. “Not it.” His boyfriend continued to scowl though, so he tugged Steve down by his forearm—Steve secretly loved that he had to—to get a kiss from the blond. “Oh, come on. You have _me_ for a date. It can’t be all _that_ bad.”

“I’m starting to consider the idea,” Steve shot back tartly. Howard only chuckled again and patted his arm.

“Well, too bad, darling. You promised,” he said in delight before slipping his arm around Steve’s elbow and tugging him out to the car waiting at the entrance of the mansion where Jarvis held the door open and shut it behind them.

“Only because you had my dick in your mouth the second you asked,” Steve muttered. Howard shot him a lascivious smirk and climbed onto his lap the moment they sat in the town car. He wrapped his arms around Steve’s neck and leaned closer to lick at his earlobe.

“I could suck you off right now if it makes you feel better,” he suggested.

“Or I could do this,” Steve said, grasping at Howard’s cock through his trousers and wrenching a moan out of him. He stroked and teased and kissed the genius until the latter was rock hard in his hand and then quite suddenly shoved Howard off his lap and onto the seat beside him. Howard made an indignant sound and then whined at Steve to finish what he started. Steve only sent a quite evil smirk in his direction and huh… Howard didn’t know he could do that.

“Oh, just you wait,” he warned under his breath instead, but Steve only huffed in amusement as though watching a kitten bristle indignantly.

It took them only a few minutes to arrive at their destination: a cozy, but elegant three-star hotel in the middle of Manhattan. Steve thought it was nice, but Howard made it known that he didn’t care for the place. Loudly.

“Oh, shush, Howard. Just because you can afford to rent out the entire Ritz-Carlton doesn’t mean that this isn’t nice,” Steve admonished. Howard gave a moue at the décor and sidled closer to Steve as if he was afraid he’d be contaminated if he wandered too close to the walls. A sign—an honest to goodness _sign_ —declared that the reunion was being held in the ballroom and that they were a good hour late. Howard once again made his thoughts known. Loudly. Steve glared at him. “I will take this moment to remind you who wanted to come in the first place,” he remarked and Howard had enough decency in him to shut up.

There was a table by the door on which there were sign-in sheets and pens and various other paraphernalia—a setup inconceivable in Howard’s world. Behind the table a plump little lady sat.

“Uh, hi?” Steve greeted hesitantly. Howard looked around him down at the sign-in sheets filled with names he didn’t know. The lady looked up, a mix between confusion and delight crossing her features. Howard wasn’t sure he liked the delight part.

“Hey there, gorgeous. You are?” she asked, perching her chin on her hands and fluttering her eyelashes obscenely.

“Steve. Uh, Steven Rogers?” She had to rack her brains for a moment more before her jaw quite suddenly and comically dropped.

“Skinny Stevie?!” she gaped and Steve flushed rather brilliantly. His hand rose to rub at the back of his neck in embarrassment but he gave an affirmative. “Holy cow…” She raked her gaze over his from head to toe. “Holy shit. What happened?”

“Err… I uh… army. Joined the army,” Steve answered.

“They let _you_ join the army?” She was still gaping, and her words somehow offended Howard even though he knew she had a point. He’d seen Steve’s records from before the army—asthmatic, underweight, a whole host of illnesses—he, too, would have been surprised the army accepted him if he hadn’t known Erskine, a doctor of epic proportions who had taken Steve under his wing and rehabilitated him to full health and more.

“Hey, babe,” he said, inadvertently drawing the attention of the attendant. Steve turned to see him browsing the souvenir program he’d picked up. “I think we might miss dinner if we don’t hurry on inside.” He showed Steve the program, tapping it pointedly before plastering himself to Steve’s side. Steve, automatically and without thought, secured Howard to him by wrapping an arm around his waist.

“Oh. Yeah. Right. Is there anywhere I should…” he made a vague hand gesture with his right hand but was ignored as his former schoolmate gaped at Howard.

“You’re… you’re H-Howard Stark,” she stuttered. Steve shrugged and turned to the desk, looking for his name in the sign up sheets.

“Indeed I am,” Howard answered then tuned her out to look as Steve put his signature in the appropriate space.

“Is there anything else…?” Steve asked the lady who shook herself out of her stupor and wrote his name down on a name tag. Steve dutifully stuck it into his lapel.

“Don’t I get one?” Howard asked him—pouted, really, because he was playing this up for her.

“Here,” she held out one for him and Howard had to commend her for her speed. Or not. Whatever. He sucked in his distaste for the object marring his clothes and stuck on the nametag that read “Howard Stark.” He nearly laughed though; people were more likely to read the nametag _after_ they recognize him. He allowed Steve to lead him from the table into the ballroom—“ballroom” really because Howard had been in ballrooms, Howard’s _house_ had a ballroom and this was not it. This was more like a really big function hall.

Inside, people were milling about between the buffet table (how plebeian), the make-shift dance floor and generally around the room. Laughter, both boisterous and demure, tinkled in the air as did silverware and china as people caught up with each other. Howard looked up to see Steve so very uncomfortable in the room and suddenly felt a little bit guilty.

“Sweetheart—,” he started quietly, but was cut off by a loud “ROGERS?!” Heads turned in their direction, and Howard was once again overshadowed by the shock that resulted from seeing “Skinny Stevie” so healthy and buff. He wasn’t sure how he felt about being overshadowed, but it was definitely interesting and different.

“Sonofabitch!” The greeting was crude, but the speaker looked bright and happy to see Steve, so there should have been absolutely no reason for him to shy back. Then he was positively _impolite_ when he shrugged off the friendly clap on his back, putting Howard on alert because Steve was _never_ impolite. Ever.

“Howard Stark,” he greeted, stepping in front of Steve and holding out his hand to shake with his most charming paparazzi smile plastered on. The other man did a double take, then a triple take and suddenly spluttered incoherently, but Howard maintained his smile and offer for a handshake until the other man took it and shook it just a tad too enthusiastically. Behind him, he could feel Steve’s relief as the focus was taken off of him, and Howard was suddenly all too thankful to be who he was if it meant he could give him that relief.

“Oh my—Oh my god. Howard Stark!” There was a growing crowd around them, people tittering and whispering amongst themselves as the other man continued to shake his hand. “I’m Richard O’Connell,” he said. “Former star quarterback.” Howard had to hold in a laugh when he adopted the classic quarterback pose. “Big fan, Mr. Stark. I’m a big fan.” He was vibrating with nervous energy.

“Quite,” he said, turning to Steve with a subtle “is he for real?” look. Steve shrugged, but he had a small smile on his face, so Howard felt better. He discreetly slipped his hand into the taller man’s.

“I’ve known Stevie here a long time, Mr. Stark, since kindergarten, I think. He and I go way back,” Richard said, proudly, but Steve’s squeezing his hand told Howard there couldn’t have been anything pleasant associated with that long time.

“I see,” Howard answered slowly, non-committally.

“So how long have you known Stevie, Mr. Stark?” Richard asked. Howard had slowly started moving away from the door and inwards, everyone in the immediate vicinity unconsciously following as though Howard’s gravity pulled them along.  Steve, however, had to be tugged along by the hand clasped around his.

“A few years now,” Howard answered simply, ignoring the simpering man to look around the “ballroom.” He then turned to Steve and trailed his fingers over the lapels of his tux jacket. “I’m finding this hotel quite charming, dear,” he said, addressing Steve who quirked an eyebrow in amusement. Only ten minutes ago, Howard was complaining how bourgeois the décor was. “I rather think I’d like to buy it. I could give it to you? What do you think?”

“I don’t think we’re ready to delve into the hospitality sector, yet, Howard,” he answered coolly. Howard huffed.

“Oh, I suppose you’re right,” he conceded. “Hey. Can a guy get a drink around here?” Steve marveled at the way a martini appeared almost magically before them, offered by a sultry brunette who Steve vaguely recognized as a former cheerleader. Howard took it without thanks and moved further inward towards the edges of the make-shift dance floor, looking at it wistfully. “You’ll dance with me later, won’t you?” he asked almost shyly, and Steve resisted the urge to laugh. Demure wasn’t an attitude found in Howard’s repertoire after all.

“We dance all the time,” he pointed out instead.

“Silly. It doesn’t count when we’re naked,” Howard declared offhandedly with an impertinent wave of his hand and then Steve found himself blushing brightly while whispers broke out loudly around them. Howard turned to him with a sly smile and Steve shook his head and sighed, not without amusement.

“Shush, you,” he admonished with a press of a kiss to his forehead.

“May I have everyone’s attention please?” a slight man called into the microphone onstage. Beside him, a peppy girl shuffled through some cue cards. Howard took them to be the emcees, while Steve knew them to be Dexter and Annie, two of the perkiest student leaders there probably ever was and two of the few people who were nice to him. “We’d like to ask everyone to take their seats as we begin the program.” Howard imperiously took the seat with the best view of the house and, though the place card proclaimed otherwise, no one complained. Instead he called over one of the waiters and asked that two five-hundred-dollar bills be given to a “Marie Anne Kendall” and “date.”

“You can’t buy seats, Howard. This isn’t a charity gala,” Steve said with a small frown. Howard waved the complaint away.

“Nonsense, babe. Marie Anne and her date are leaving here five hundred dollars richer. I’m sure she won’t mind,” he said. True enough, Marie Anne, a girl Steve didn’t know, came babbling happily at him, so he sat down in concession.

“We’ve been made aware that we have a surprise VIP in the house,” Dexter said from up front and the spotlight turned to Howard. “Mr. Howard Stark, ladies and gentlemen.” Howard stood, gave a short wave at the thunderous applause then sat back down. Steve huffed a laugh.

“You’re having way too much fun with this,” he accused.

“It’s nice to be in the midst of the middle class every once in a while,” Howard shot back. Steve only rolled his eyes to stifle a laugh.

“Maybe later, Mr. Stark would like to impart a few words of wisdom to us,” Dexter was saying to the crowd as though Howard had already given his consent. It hardly mattered though; Howard could give a speech on the fly that would have hard-won investors eating out of the palm of his hand. Steve’s former classmates were hardly the worst crowd Howard would ever face down. And really, Howard was kind of an attention whore in that respect; it didn’t take much to have him up on stage and demanding the attention of everyone present. He was lucky he was the only person Steve willingly spent his attention on.

“But before we begin,” Annie said. “We’d like to ask everyone for a moment of silence. One of our classmates is not here with us today.” Steve’s heart suddenly seized in his chest because of course, _of course_ they would think to do this, regardless of how Steve felt about it, regardless of the guilt and the overwhelming sadness that gripped him every time he thought of this. Howard’s eyes were wide as they turned to him. He clutched Steve’s hand tightly and stroked it with his thumb. ‘I’m here for you,’ his gaze said, and Steve clung to it like a lifeline, holding it and ignoring the pictures of Bucky, some familiar and some not, that flashed across the screen, more than a few of them containing Steve. “Sgt. James Barnes is a hero among men. He served our fair nation with passion and dignity, and he will be remembered fondly in our hearts and minds. To us, he will always be ‘Bucky.’” The moment of silence was deafening and in the middle of it, Howard discreetly pressed a kiss to Steve’s cheek.

“Thank you all for that,” Dexter said and meant it and for that, Steve was glad. Howard, though, couldn’t help but wonder why Bucky’s relation to Steve wasn’t highlighted, wasn’t even mentioned (aside from those few pictures with Steve) and why he wasn’t called on to give a few words about Bucky (even if he wouldn’t have, but it was the principle of the thing). Surely, they all knew who Bucky and Steve were to each other? He frowned minutely then shrugged it off; maybe they _had_ contacted him about it previously and he’d declined but forgotten to tell Howard about it.

“So,” he murmured while the program was underway. “Who’s Richard O’Connell?” Steve shot him a look that was equal parts wary and shut-down.

“He’s no one, Howard. Forget about it,” he answered.

“Oh, come on. From the way he said it, you two are practically best friends.” This time the look was annoyed.

“Far from it,” Steve snorted, more to himself.

“Maybe an ex then? A particularly disgruntled one who is realizing what a mistake it was to lose a stud like you?” Steve held his glare for all of three minutes before sighing deeply.

“I knew coming here was going to be a huge mistake,” he muttered to himself then sighed again. “You know how I told you I got picked on a lot?” Howard was silent, but his suspicions were confirmed. “Richie O’Connell was one of those assholes who thought that just because I was small and skinny I deserved a beating.”

“Bastard…” Howard hissed.

“He wasn’t the worst of them. Usually he just stood at the sidelines and jeered, or he’d egg other people on to do it, but he didn’t make my life any easier back then,” Steve shrugged. “A lot of them were the same way because Bucky was a good enough deterrent to keep them from actual physical violence.”

“And who was ‘the worst of them’?” the genius asked.

“ _No_ , Howard. You are not going to destroy their credit scores for things they did in the past when they were _just children_ ,” Steve reprimanded firmly.

“ _Steve_ , if they did it as a child, I’m willing to bet they’re still doing it as adults,” Howard pointed out and though he did have a point, Steve wasn’t convinced enough to tell him. He liked giving people the benefit of the doubt after all.

“Forget it, Howard,” Steve repeated. “We aren’t here to make enemies and put people out on the street just because you feel indignant for me.” He squeezed Howard’s hand in warning, so Howard did drop it.

The rest of the program proceeded smoothly, and Howard found himself amused, but not impressed, by the mediocre performances of their “best singers.” He’d particularly liked the class clown’s stand up comedy and made a mental note to get him some gigs after he’d made Steve laugh, somewhat defended Steve’s honor and shamed Richard O’Connell in one joke. The trip down memory lane segment didn’t particularly appeal to him, since he didn’t have the same memories, but it was interesting enough when Steve gave him a personal commentary about his own experiences.

The last part of the program was a sort of awards ceremony where they’d look up the awards portion of their yearbook and read out the “most likely” section and find out if the entries were true. For those that were, a prize was given. As expected, though, most of them weren’t, but the cheery catcalls and jeering the awardees received had Howard—and surprisingly enough, Steve, even though he’d been resistant to the idea of coming in the first place—laughing along. Howard would never tire of seeing Steve’s laughter.

“Most likely to be the richest and most famous…” Annie called out. Oh, Howard was interested to hear this one. “Tyler Braddock!” Uproarious cheers broke out and both of Howard’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. He didn’t know Tyler Braddock, owner of Fielder Industrial Equipment, a small but formidable company that dealt mostly with farming implements, went to school with Steve. He’d met Tyler on several occasions, both social and business, because Stark Industries had filled several orders from Fielder in the past.

“I didn’t know you went to school with him,” Howard murmured to Steve, watching as Tyler walked up the stage to claim his prize as though it had been something he’d been fighting for all his life. Cheers and laughter greeted him as he pumped his fists in victory. It was ridiculous and childish, in all honesty, but Howard supposed they were entitled to it seeing as they were among childhood friends. When Howard turned to look at Steve, though, his expression floored him. Steve gaze held enough hatred to fell a cow, and Howard suddenly knew the answer to that the question Steve had refused to answer earlier.

“He was a private school drop out,” Steve explained. “No private school wanted to take him, so his parents had no choice but to send him to public school, one that was far away and non-descript enough from their home in DC that it wouldn’t cause a spectacle.”

“What did he do, Steve?” Howard asked lowly. Steve shot him a look.

“Nothing I couldn’t handle then and can’t handle now, Howard, so _again_. Drop it.” But Howard certainly couldn’t. He made a mental note to finish out the night and then work on finding out how much he had to punish Braddock.

“Most likely to die a virgin…” Dexter called out. Laughter rang out among those who remembered the name that came after it, but Steve was frozen in horror and embarrassment. “Steve Rogers!”A slow blush was creeping up his neck, and he did his best to smile weakly as the spotlight shone on him. The cheers and catcalls were deafening, some of them good natured, some of them cutting as though the speakers had forgotten they were adults and that Howard was _right there_. And then he could suddenly see Tyler Braddock smile widely.

“Has he put out yet, Howard?!” he suddenly yelled over the roar of noise, calling up more jeers and laughter. Steve visibly shrank down into his seat.

Oh, Braddock was _so_ going down.

Howard stood and strode over to the stage, appropriating himself a microphone and waiting for the end of the noise that quickly died down when they saw him standing onstage. From his vantage point, Howard could clearly see Steve slumped in his chair, trying his very best to avoid both the gazes of everyone and reprimand Howard for making a scene. He ignored the reprimand.

“So it was mentioned that I’d be asked to give a speech,” he started, and the noise quieted down further as people watched with rapt attention. “Well, I haven’t been asked yet, but don’t worry. This is not the first time I’ve hijacked a program.” Chuckles echoed around the room. “Well, then. First of all, I’d like to thank you all for giving me the pleasure of speaking my mind to a group of people who I wouldn’t have crossed paths with at any point in my life had it not been for my date, Steve. Hey, babe.” He gave him a little finger wave and then blew him a kiss, getting more chuckles from spectators in return. Steve only alternated between annoyance and embarrassment.

“As anyone who has read my biography would know, I never really went to high school. My parents decided that it was too much of a security risk to send me out in public too often, so they got me the best tutors and had me homeschooled for most of my life until such a point that I was smarter than any of the tutors they could hire. After that, it was inevitable that I be enrolled in university which could give me a better challenge and a better opportunity to learn more, though it wasn’t by much. I was sixteen.” A pause.

“Because of that, I didn’t really have any of the experiences you here have had. I didn’t have friends I could complain about teachers and homework to. I didn’t have exams—not the kinds that counted anyway—that made certain weeks of my life torture. I didn’t participate in prom and football games and homecoming and pep rallies and any of the other activities that qualify an authentic high school experience. It was like I had completely skipped that part of life. So when I heard about this reunion, I pestered and begged and _convinced_ —” He waggled his eyebrows and earned laughs. “—Steve to attend and bring me along with him so that I could see for myself what it was like.

“And so here I am, in all my greenhorn glory, in one of my best suits and with the most gorgeous date I’ve ever had.” He paused. “And then I learn about people like Richard O’Connell and Tyler Braddock, people who make me _glad_ that I missed the authentic high school experience.” Silence suddenly rang out. “I met Steve in the army eight years ago. I was the primary military contractor and he was the leader of the best specialist team they had. Bucky Barnes was on that team. We’d grown close during the various battles America participated in, so I learned who Steve was. But it was no secret, really; he is probably the _single most decent man_ I had ever met and ever will meet. It was no surprise, therefore, how much his team members, Bucky Barnes and, later, myself valued his friendship.

“This kind of person is not made overnight; this is a person who was born and raised that way. This means Steve is, most likely, as decent as he is now as he was back when he was classmates with all of you. And most of you, except probably Bucky, did not have the _common sense_ to value and covet that. Even more, you chose to delude yourself by ignoring it and capitalizing on the fact that he was too small and sickly to fight back properly. In fact, it _astounds_ me that I had to drag Steve— _my Steve_ who would probably give _Osama Bin Laden_ a second chance—kicking and screaming to an event where he had to see all of you, any of you again. What that says about you and what that says about Steve who _chose to come anyway_ is clear.

“’Most likely to die a virgin’ is hardly the worst insult in the book—and for the record, he isn’t… far, _far_ from it because let me tell you this right now, ladies and gents, Steve here is and has always been _hung_ —but I’m here to correct some wrongs by telling you to toss that shit thing of a prize away and also by taking back the one you’d given Braddock. ‘Richest and most famous’? Please,” he scoffed. “Fielder is practically non-existent next to _half_ of Stark Industries, which is precisely what Steve owns…” Howard paused and turned to his lover. “Or will own once Steve answers a question.” Steve’s eyes widened as he understood the implication. Everybody else stared at him.

“So, babe, want to ditch this joint and get hitched?” Steve’s mouth opened and shut several times. “Do you want me to get on one knee, Steve, really? Because I will.” Steve couldn’t— _couldn’t_ —respond, so Howard dropped the mic and ignored the sharp sound that resulted from the action to walk across the dance floor and slide himself in Steve’s lap. He wrapped his arms around Steve’s neck and leaned forward to press their foreheads together. There was silence around them that furthered the illusion that they were alone. “Marry me, Steve,” he whispered so that only Steve could hear. Steve shut his eyes in what was an effort to hold back the tears that sprung to his eyes from falling before nodding ever so slightly and pressing a kiss to Howard’s mouth. The cheers around them went unheeded as Howard whispered again, “I’m sorry for making you come.”

“Shut up, Howard,” Steve murmured. “Would you have proposed if we hadn’t come?”

“Babe, I bought the ring three weeks ago. _Yes_ , of course, you big lug.”

**Author's Note:**

> This didn't start out as a proposal fic, but Howard is too strong willed for me to control him. *sigh*


End file.
